


Three hundred sixty five degrees

by Builder



Series: Nat on Fire [13]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drugs, Gen, Mission Fic, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, POV Natasha Romanov, Sex, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26199772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: She’s used to being some drunk guy’s fantasy.  In fact, that’s how most of her solo missions start.
Series: Nat on Fire [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/796122
Kudos: 9





	Three hundred sixty five degrees

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @builder051

She’s used to being some drunk guy’s fantasy. In fact, that’s how most of her solo missions start. Wear the off-the-shoulder red dress and four-inch heels, tonight accented with a bobbed black wig and exotically winged eyeliner. Meet the target at the hotel bar and hang near his elbow; let him buy her a glass of sickly pink champagne and pretend to enjoy it when what she wants is plain vodka on the rocks. 

Nat’s used to being treated as hired sex. For the most part she can get in, get what she needs, and get out before foreplay turns to fucking, but she’s not always that lucky. Tonight he offers her cocaine and a hundred dollar bill to snort it with. Nat takes him up on it, and not just to play along. She feels the drug release lightning into her veins through her sinuses, energizing her to hurry up and pull the widow’s bites from her handbag while he undresses behind the bedroom door. 

Once the man’s left incapacitated, lying on his side and bleeding from the head, Nat takes off through the window. She gathers up the briefcase she was after all along, plus the drugs and a good amount of cash she considers prizes of a more personal nature. 

The room’s only on the third floor, so she doesn’t even need to remove her shoes to shimmy down three layers of balcony until she reaches street level. From there, the wig goes into the dumpster behind the hotel. The skirt of Nat’s dress zips off at a hidden seam and becomes dramatically shorter so she matches the streetwalkers who aren’t quite lucky enough to make it inside. She jams the extra fabric into the briefcase, exchanging it for well enough everything in it, which she transfers to her purse instead. 

Then begins the long walk back toward her mangy apartment. She usually would head back in the direction of SHIELD HQ, or pull the outdated cell phone out of her purse and mime a tearful call to Fury asking for a pickup. Tonight, though, she’d rather head back to her hovel where there’s vodka in the fridge. The cash is practically burning a hole in her pocketbook, and, as the high of the coke slowly wears down, she remembers that she knows exactly where to find the guy with the quality weed, even this time of night.

When she finally puts key to lock at half to five in the morning, Nat has nearly as many missed calls from Nick. He’s left no messages, but his point is clear. “Later,” Nat sighs as she continues to scroll. There’s one more missed call she has yet to investigate. This one’s from Steve, which is surprising, but also not. It’s kind that he knows her mission schedule, if not a little creepy. As Nat watches, a notification appears next to the voicemail icon. She presses the button, and shoves the phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she unlocks the door and gets herself settled inside.

“Hey, I know you’ve got everything under control, but since you’re late, I’m worried, so text me when you’re home. Ok. Bye.”

Nat drops the phone on the kitchen counter along with her ever-important handbag. Then she changes clothes, attacks her face with a makeup wipe, pours a drink, and rolls a joint. She lights up and puffs on it for a while, then, finally, when boozy sleepiness begins to settle upon her, she goes back to the studio’s kitchen to send a quick text.


End file.
